Sleep Deprived
by japwannabe
Summary: ROGAN. AU. Rory finds it hard to sleep and Logan comes home earlier than usual. A bit of angst with a happy ending.


**Disclaimer:** I don't own the characters.

**Author's Note:** Not my first fanfic, but it is my first _Gilmore Girls_ fanfic. Also, I don't usually write in second person, but I thought I'd try it out for once. My regular beta is unavailable. I editted it myself, but please do point out any mistakes. Criticisms and reviews are always welcomed with open arms. And sorry about the cliche title, I couldn't think of any other suitable one.

**Sleep Deprived**

It's ten at night when you finally get home. The apartment is encased in darkness, and when you flick on the lights you notice that everything is where you left it this morning - a sure sign that he hadn't been home after you left for work. You sigh and rub your eyes. It's not an unusual occurrence (him coming home late, or not coming home at all), but you can't help but feel disappointed; feel lonely.

You shake your head, trying to clear your mind of negative thoughts. You're tired and decide to have a quick shower before you go to bed.

Wrapped around warm blankets in the comfort of your bed (it's his too, but for the past few weeks, you've been calling it your own, like the majority of the things in the apartment you used to share, after all, you actually use it on a regular basis, more than he does), you find it hard to sleep. You feel dead-tired and want nothing more than to get some rest, but it seems your mind has other plans and refuses to stop working and succumbing to sleep.

You lie in bed and remember back to the first night he came home late.

_It's one thirty in the morning and you're still up, waiting for him. You're worried sick because he was supposed to be home hours ago and you have no idea where he is. He hasn't called and isn't picking up his phone that probably has a full voicemail inbox with all the messages you've left him. You're curled up on the couch, cradling a hot cup of coffee in your hands and biting your bottom lip, nervously._

_When he does come home, a half hour later, you jump up and hug him before pushing him away and swatting at his arm. _

"_Where have you been?" You practically yell, but when you get a good look at him, your voice softens. "I was worried." His face is pale and he looks tired and worn out._

"_I'm sorry, Ace," he says and tries to give you a reassuring smile, but you frown when you notice that the smile doesn't reach his eyes like they usually do. He looks weak and you wonder if he's had a proper meal. You decide you don't want to play 20 questions; instead you take his hand and drag him into the bedroom where you both finally get some needed sleep._

That incident happened over two months ago. For the next few late home comings, you stayed up and waited for him. His work at his father's company had started to pile up, making him busy and staying in late to try and get things done. You stop waiting after the 7th night. You felt a bit guilty about it, but when you woke up to find his side of the bed empty, your guilt turned into anger.

Since then your anger and resentment has disappeared. You miss him. You love him. Even though he has been neglecting you in favour of work, you can't hate him. You still love him.

You roll over to lie on your left side. The digital clock on the beside table flashes and tells you that it's 11:14. You stare at it and when the number changes and the night becomes 11:23, the front door opens and you hear him come in.

You're in shock and lie completely still. He's home early—well, early for _him_—and you're hoping to God that it really _is_ him and that it's not your tired mind playing evil tricks on you.

The bedroom door creaks open and you shut your eyes, feigning sleep. You don't know why you're pretending—actually you do, but you don't want to admit it. You don't want to open your eyes and confirm your thoughts and fall for your mind games. You don't want to see him not there. Pretending was much easier. Pretending would hurt less.

There's some ruffling noise and you presume it's him undressing, but you quickly cast that thought aside, not wanting to create any false hope.

And then you feel it: the cool air against your skin as the blanket is lifted carefully; the warmth of a long, lean body pressed against your back; the security, you haven't felt in a long time, from the arm slipped around your waist; the soft lips placed on the back of your neck. This was the small intimate gesture you have been yearning for in God knows how long.

Your heart is racing and you let slip, pass your lips, a whisper of his name. "Logan…"

"You're awake," it's not a question.

You can't keep up your façade any longer. "Yeah, I am," you say, quietly. "And you're home early, for _once_." There's sharpness in your voice and it comes out harder than you meant it too. You don't want to be angry at him. You don't want to fight. You're too tired. You wish you could just be happy and relish in the fact that he is home. But your stubbornness won't allow it.

"Rory…"

"What!" You snap.

The arm around your waist tightens and you feel him trying to get you to face him, but you resist. "Rory, look at me!" He pleads. You comply, but avert your gaze downwards, away from his eyes.

"Rory, look at me," he says, softly, caressing your cheek. He moves closer, lays his forehead against yours, and you let him.

"I'm sorry."

You look into his brown eyes and sees that he is genuinely sorry.

"Yeah, me too."

He pulls you in closer, and you love the feel of his arms around your shoulders; you reciprocate by enfolding your arms around his torso. You both lay there, not saying a word, just enjoying being in each other's embrace.

"I quit my job today."

"What?" You lean back a bit and look up at him.

"That's why I'm home early—well, earlier than usual. I told my father I quit," he says with a hint of pride in his voice.

"Y-You quit? B-but…you're the heir! You can't just quit! What are you going to do? How are you going to support yourself? You have no job! My job only pays so little, I don't think I can support both of us! I mean—" You get cut off by his fingers placed on your lips.

He smirks, and you know it's because of your confused ramble and something else. "Ah Ace, you really have no faith in me, huh?" He laughs, but stops when he sees your worried expression.

"I'm not stupid. Before I quit, I made sure I found myself a stable, good paying job that would enable me to support the both of us. I won't get as much as I did when I was with my dad, but just enough for essentials and a little more."

"Wow. So, you really did it? You found a new job?"

"Yeah and it's a good one. It's a small internet company, but it has a lot of potential. They hired me as vice-president and I believe with a little hard work, something big will happen. It's amazing. The company is in the city, so we don't have to move anywhere. I've been there a couple of times and the people are great and the work is great and—why are you looking at me like that?" He asks with a grin on his face.

"You look happy."

"I am happy. Very happy."

"But, why?"

"Why am I happy?" He frowns, not understanding.

"No. Why did you quit? It's not because of me is it? I don't want you to quit because of me. I don't want to be what caused the rift between you and your father. I mean, it's okay that you come home late, I can handle it," you say, unconvincingly.

"Ace, Rory. I didn't quit because of you, I quit because I wanted to. I know I haven't been around for the past few weeks, what with all the work and business trips, and I hate that. I want to be able to come home at a suitable hour and spend my evenings with you. I want weekends off where we can just lazily lay in bed all day. Work with my dad was horrible and that rift has been there way before you came along. I barely got to see you and I missed you like crazy. I never got enough sleep and I was always moody. I'm going to be around more often now and I'm honestly sorry I wasn't before. I love my new job. I love you. Everything is going to be different; it's going to be better, okay?" Logan pulls you close and the tears you've been trying to hold in escape.

"I love you, Logan," you whisper.

"I love you, Rory."

Minutes pass as you both unwind in the comforting silence.

It's you who breaks it. "So, you get weekends off, huh?" A real smile plays on your lips, something that hasn't happened in a while.

Logan laughs. "Yep!"

You and Logan spend the rest of the night, or early morning, talking. He tells you about his new job (all while smiling, of course) and you tell him stories about yours, updating him on things he missed.

You and Logan eventually doze off and have one of the best sleeps in a long time.


End file.
